When Gin Ichimaru said those words, Ichigo Kurosaki could not hide his shock.
For a moment, his expression hovered between disbelief and a painful kind of compassion, as if he still did not know whether he could trust this man - or whether he even had the right to doubt someone already standing at the edge of death.
Even so, Ichigo leaned down.
He knelt beside Gin on one knee and carefully brought his ear closer. On the screen, the audience could only see Gin's lips move faintly, but no sound reached them. It was a deliberate silence, suffocating in its weight, the kind that made everyone hold their breath without realizing it.
Then came the next cut.
Ichigo's face changed completely.
His pupils contracted violently, and the terror spreading across his expression was even greater than when he had seen his own father pierce Whisper through with a sword. This was not merely shock. It was the horror of someone who, in a matter of seconds, understood that everything he thought he knew might have been nothing more than the surface of a far deeper abyss.
- I leave… everything to you.
After saying that, Gin shifted his gaze toward Rangiku.
And, as though he had returned to the moment he betrayed the Soul Society one year ago, he repeated the words that had never truly stopped belonging to her.
- I'm sorry, Rangiku… If only… you could have held me… just a little longer…
His voice faded before the end.
Gin's head fell weakly to the side.
- Gin…!
Rangiku's cry echoed through the heart of the Soul King Palace, tearing through the majesty of that sacred place with something far too human to be contained by walls, pillars, or artificial skies.
Meanwhile, inside the inner hall, Sosuke Aizen remained still, as though Gin's death were nothing more than a faint ripple on some distant lake.
- Harribel - he said, his voice far too calm for a battlefield. - You have only just returned to life. You are in no condition to fight. Return to Hueco Mundo and recover.
Harribel, so surprised she almost seemed honored, immediately dropped to one knee.
- How could I leave the battlefield before Lord Aizen?
Aizen did not raise his voice.
He did not need to.
He merely narrowed his eyes and turned his face halfway toward her, casting her a cold look that left no room for argument.
- I said go back.
Harribel pressed her lips together. For a few seconds, she seemed as though she wanted to insist, but obedience weighed heavier than any impulse. At last, she slowly rose to her feet.
- I will await Lord Aizen's victorious return in Hueco Mundo.
When she finished speaking, she raised her index finger and lightly cut through the air. A dark rift opened before her, silent as a bottomless mouth.
Before stepping through it, Harribel looked at Aizen one final time. There was reluctance in that gaze, and something more intimate as well, a kind of attachment she would never dare turn into words. Then she entered the black opening and vanished, returning to the world from which she had come.
Aizen, standing atop the platform of the inner hall, turned halfway around.
- In the end, it had to be you, Ichigo Kurosaki. What a pity… you are already too late.
He looked down from above, like a bored god watching a man insist on climbing the impossible.
Behind him, slightly to the side, stood the Soul King.
The sovereign's chest had been pierced by Aizen's sword of spiritual particles.
On the palace's main avenue, Ichigo advanced alone.
With every step, he saw bodies collapsed along the way. Members of the Royal Guard, Kenpachi Zaraki, Retsu Unohana, Renji Abarai, and even… Rukia. Some were still breathing. Others did not move at all. None of them looked capable of standing again.
Memories began cutting through his mind like fragments of an entire lifetime.
The day he had accidentally received the power of a Soul Reaper. The desperate invasion of the Soul Society to save Rukia. Aizen's betrayal. The journey to Hueco Mundo to rescue Orihime. The destined battle against Ulquiorra. Every fight, every loss, every promise made at the edge of impossibility pushed him toward this moment.
And now, once again, he was here.
Not for glory. Not for revenge.
But to save the three worlds.
The fear born from Gin's words still existed, buried somewhere deep inside him. But it no longer ruled his eyes. His hesitation had disappeared, replaced by a determination so clear it seemed to set the screen itself ablaze.
There was only one thought inside Ichigo.
I will defeat you.
Aizen.
The image froze at that exact moment.
[To Be Continued]
…
…
- Whoa…!
On the set of the historical drama Mark was filming, the young actor let out such a heavy breath when the final four words appeared on the screen that even Mark, sitting beside him, was startled.
What was with that sudden outburst?
On the other side, another castmate of Mark's - the actor playing the loyal prince in the drama - also released a long, heavy sigh, as though he had spent the entire episode holding his breath.
Mark looked from one to the other, completely confused.
What was wrong with these people?
- Next week should be the finale, right? - his colleague said, still staring at the darkened screen. - I'm not ready to say goodbye.
Hearing that, Mark finally understood.
Yes.
For all of them, this was the end of a series.
But for him, it was also the end of the days when he had been Ichigo Kurosaki.
Thinking back on the entire filming journey, Mark had the strange feeling that he had truly crossed into another world. As if, during that time, he had lived a second life entirely different from his own. A life made of battles, losses, companions, scars, and farewells that, even if performed for the camera, had left real marks behind.
It was impossible not to miss it.
Impossible not to hurt.
- Mark, look at this. Director Alex just posted.
The young actor lightly tapped his arm, pulling him out of his trance.
- Hm?
One second earlier, Mark had still been drowning in melancholy. The next, he had already unlocked his phone in a rush and opened social media.
After all, his title as Alex's number one professional flatterer was not a joke.
To make sure Alex always remembered him whenever a handsome, memorable, stylish role appeared, Mark followed every update from the director as though his career depended on it. And honestly, perhaps it did.
If Aurora Entertainment had not meant so much to him in the past, Mark might already have followed Nadia's example and jumped over to Alex's company.
Of course, up to that point, Alex's company still had not signed a single male actor. Even if Mark wanted to go, there was no guarantee Alex would take him.
A few seconds later, he opened the only account marked as an absolute priority on his favorites list.
Alex V:
"In life, two kinds of luck are enough. One is meeting you. The other is walking with you until the end. August 2X, 201X, 8:00 p.m., the finale of Bleach. Thank you for being with us."
…
…
In truth, around that same time, Alex's production company had also posted an update on its official account. It was published the day after his post, but it received slightly less attention.
Less, of course, only when compared with that farewell to Bleach, because in any other context its impact would have been absurd.
The post contained a photo.
In it, Alex held a golden trophy, surrounded by applause from foreigners, standing at the center of the room with the natural ease of someone who looked born for that kind of moment.
Three hours earlier, the first half of Death Ledger had won Best Director at the Golden Globes in the United States.
…
…
"National epic Bleach approaches its finale!"
"Alex wins Best Director at the Golden Globes in the United States!"
First and second place on the trending charts, without the slightest room for debate.
And even with Alex overseas receiving a major award, not even that could overshadow Bleach.
Major entertainment accounts entered a frenzy. As Mark had once said to Rebeca Verne in one of those almost offensive moments of false modesty: did Bleach really need promotion?
The series carried global traffic all by itself.
Bleach nearing its end.
Alex raising a glass in the United States.
With those two pieces of news circulating at the same time, the media simply lost its mind. There was too much to discuss, too many headlines to write, too much emotion to turn into clicks.
"Over 30 Billion Views in One Year: A Look Back at the Unbreakable Records Set by Bleach"
"The Style of Alex: Why Other Directors Simply Cannot Imitate Him"
"Rival Production Companies Breathe a Sigh of Relief: The Great Monster Is Finally Ending"
…
…
And it was not only the media. Many artists also posted messages congratulating Alex on his award and lamenting the approaching end of Bleach.
Nadia wrote:
"The boss is amazing. Kisses."
Bella posted:
"I can't believe it's ending… this was my first series."
Mark wrote:
"Appearing in Bleach was the most precious experience of my acting career."
Emily was more direct:
"Want to watch the finale together?"
…
…
At least those people had worked with Alex before. Naturally, plenty of celebrities he did not even know also showed up to ride the wave.
Alex was already used to it.
As a certain famous actor had once said: before fame, you get to experience every kind of person; after fame, suddenly everyone around you seems wonderful.
In Alex's own comment section, however, the atmosphere was rare.
Warm.
Yes, warm. Gentle. Almost comforting.
That was practically historic, considering that the comments under his posts usually looked like a marketplace for drunken demons. His fans were a spectacle all on their own: some made dirty jokes, some cursed, some flirted in ways that should probably be considered criminal, and some seemed to have lost any sense of social boundaries altogether.
But this time, although every comment had its own tone, all of them could be summarized in two words.
Teary-eyed.
"Is it really ending? I'm not ready. I'm really not."
"When my favorite character died, I was only sad. Now that the finale has been confirmed, I'm crying like an idiot."
"My Ichigo, my Rukia, my Byakuya Kuchiki… and my Lord Aizen."
"Damn it, even failing my college entrance exam didn't make me feel this empty."
"My Orihime, my Nel, my Harribel…"
"Bro, just admit you only like the big-chested characters."
"Not today. At least not today. No dirty jokes. This week, let's give it our best and say goodbye to this old friend properly when the finale comes."
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